When I was about 6 or 7 years old, I wrote this little story that began with the words, "It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out!" Sadly, the maid had been killed by a bullet. The family she works for is understandably tearful. However, at the end of the story, when you turn the last page, you see the maid and her family standing up and smiling. Below them are the words, "But not really!" At the end, the terrible event is completely erased, and everyone is happy and healthy just as they were meant to be.
But Goddammit, life just doesn't give you happy endings like that! In real life, the maid gets shot and stays dead. The family stays sad. No one is happy or healthy, and they just have to deal with it.
I have a hard time accepting that. And I think that has a lot to do with why I love to write stories so much.
When I compose and write a story, I get to control what kind of ending my characters get. I can give them the happy ending, if I think they need one. And if they end up getting an unhappy ending, I can live with it because I know I've made them strong enough to accept it. And I know why their unhappy ending came about...I know how it happened and I know why I allowed it to happen to them.
In other words, I get to control the universe of my stories. I get to reward those who deserve rewarding, punish those who have earned punishment, and see people grow from the adversity they experience. I get to decide.
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2 comments:
I find your God complex interesting, but not really compatible with your cynical.
nature.
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